


My secrets are better then yours

by ProfessorPlum



Series: Hope for the hoplesss [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sex, Teenagers, Underage Sex, it's not really rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorPlum/pseuds/ProfessorPlum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When we are ten Jim tells me that he’s going to fly away someday. Not in an airplane but that he’s going to grow wings and fly away just like a bird. I know it’s not true and I think he does too but I pretend that he’s going to leave and I cry. Jim always hugs me when I cry and makes me feel happy again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My secrets are better then yours

 

 

  
When we are seven, Jim makes it very clear who is the boss out of the two of us. Though he is only a few minutes older, he makes it seem like the minutes are years. He always assures me that he is the smart one and that I am the following orders one. We make a good team that way, catching bugs for Jim to keep in jars and chasing birds to watch them fly away. It makes him happy when I do what he tells me, and I like it when he's happy. He holds my hand sometimes when we run at the birds even though I think it's mean to scare them away. I do it anyways.  
  
  
When we are ten Jim tells me that he’s going to fly away someday. Not in an airplane but that he’s going to grow wings and fly away just like a bird. I know it’s not true and I think he does too but I pretend that he’s going to leave and I cry. Jim always hugs me when I cry and makes me feel happy again.    
  
  
We are twelve and I have a secret girlfriend, her name is Rosie. I hold her hand and I give her a kiss on the cheek sometimes and she laughs. Jim is the only one who knows my secret and doesn’t like it, he stays in his room and calls me bad things and says I’m stupid for thinking she likes me. I don’t talk to Rosie after that and I think she’s not my girlfriend anymore. Jim spends more time with me when I don’t talk to her, and says he’s sorry for calling me names. He says that I don’t need a girlfriend that he and I will always be together then he kisses me on my cheek.  
  
  
At thirteen my voice drops too low to be in choir at our church anymore but Jim has to stay even though he hates it and just mouths the words anyways. I know he doesn’t want to go to church with me and mum. Jim hates it. He says that god doesn’t love him and he’s happy about it. I don’t say anything because thought I want to be like Jim I don’t want god to hate me too. We are nearly fifteen before he finally gets out of choir.  
  
  
Soon after our fifteenth birthday mum gets sick. The really bad kind of sick. Jim says he doesn't care, just shrugs when I ask him if he thinks she'll be okay, but I know he's sad deep down. She has to stay in the hospital for weeks at a time and has friends check on us every now and then to bring us food and say how she’s doing well. Jim likes mum being gone because now he can sneak out at night. I don’t like when he does it, because he leaves me alone in our house and Jim and I have always been together, even before we were born.  
  
  
“Lock the door when I leave," Jim tells me as he put on his blue jacket, the one that is slightly too small for me. Jim has developed an unusual eating habit as well as a strange sleeping pattern. His arms are too thin and next to him I must look fat. I try not to eat dinner so I can match him but I get too hungry. I am taller too, only by a few centimeters but we look less and less like each other every day.  
  
  
"Okay," I say with a nod because I have no other choice in the matter. I sleep in Jim's bed when he leaves so I can feel like he’s there too.  
  
  
I suppose everyone leaves eventually. Our father left when Jim and I were just babies, our mother is in the hospital except for the rare occasions when she can come home for the weekend. And now Jim is leaving almost every night. I am the only one who has not left. It makes me think something might be wrong with me for not flying away like the rest of the birds.  
  
  
Jim still doesn't have any friends. I have friends at school that Jim doesn't know about because he is a year ahead of me and would no doubt get mad if he knew about them. He gets more affectionate when I do see him, and I think it must be because mum has stopped coming home on the weekends because she is too sick. Jim says she's going to die but I think she might get better still. "Hope is a lie," he tells me but I try not to listen to him. He kisses me on the lips sometimes like my secret girlfriend does at school. I kiss him back sometimes because I think he must need me and I don't like when he leaves during the night. Sometimes he isn't home for days and I always think he won’t come back but he does.  He always comes back.  
  
  
Sometimes Jim gets too affectionate. He will climb over me on the night he stays home and kiss me awake. He will palm me through my trousers and I feel bad for thinking it feels good. I tell him that we're brothers and he can't do that and he gets mad. I let him do it anyways because I don't want him to leave again.  
  
  
I am reading a book in bed with my back against the headboard, glancing out the window every now and then to see the sky getting darker. I don't think Jim will go out tonight because he seems to be on a pattern and Jim loves patterns. Books are like friends to me, I think if only Jim read a little more he would be happier instead of always saying he wants to die when he has nothing to do. I hardly see him walk into my room but I look over as he climbs onto my bed and straddles my waist. "What are you reading?" he asks in a playful voice.  
  
  
"A collection of poems," I reply quietly. I think poems are lovely.  
  
  
"That sounds awfully boring, Richie. Why don't we have a little fun instead?" I don't answer as he pucks the book from my hand and leans down to kiss me. I have become rather good at kissing since I've gotten a girlfriend. I don't see her outside of school but Isabel and I kiss in secret. Kissing Jim is not like kissing her however. It is familiar, almost sickeningly so. His tongue and his lips I have seen all my life and now they and pressed against my tongue and my lips. He rolls his hips down against my own and I give a small squeak of discomfort. "Oh Richie, you sound like a mouse," he laughs.  
  
  
I don't tell him to stop. I should. I should push him off because I know I'm stronger and tell him that it isn't right. But I don't. Instead I let him take off my shirt, I let him kiss me until I'm out of breath and my lips are sore and my forehead feels sweaty because I'm nervous. I try to protest when he reaches down to my trousers but he says, "Shush my darling. I promise you'll like this," while pressing a finger to my lips. He undoes my trousers and gets up. "Take them off," he tells me.  
  
  
After I take off my trousers he stares at me with hungry eyes that I am afraid to see. He slips off his own trousers and I stare back at his thin legs. I have seen my brother nude very many times but I have never seen him undress _for_ me. He tells me to take off my pants and I do with trembling hands. He tells me to lie down and I close my eyes.  
  
  
I have looked at other guys with lust before. I know it's a sin. I know that it's bad and I would never consider acting on those thoughts that haunt me. I have never wanted to have sex with Jim though. I have never looked at my brother with vile intentions.  
  
  
I feel the bed creak as he gets back on it. A small pop tells me that Jim is opening something. He guilds my legs up, telling me how amazing I look in a shushed voice as though we are in church. Before I can even consider opening my eyes, there is a cold feeling at my arse intruding me, probing me. I whimper and I feel a hand over my cheek before it moves down. "Shh, just relax," Jim's voice tells me. What I now guess to be Jim's finger slides in an out of me before there is another added.  
  
  
I want to cry, it hurts, but then Jim's other hand is gripping my cock, stroking me and I open my eyes in shock. "Jimmy, please," I say. I don't know if I want him to please stop or please wank me off. But he doesn't stop, only smiles. I feel Jim add another finger and before I know it they are all gone and I can't help feeling hard in Jim's hand.  
  
  
"Remember what I said. Relax," Jim reminds me and at once I know why. He is pushing the tip of his own cock where his fingers were a moment before. I jerk my hips wildly which only causes him to push in farther. My arse burns and I shut my eyes as he leans closer. He's still wearing his white t-shirt and the fabric is touching my stomach. The sounds Jim is making are far from sickening but actually making me want more friction on my hardening member. It makes me feel guilty for liking it. Jim's cock is covered in the same cold stuff that he had used to prepare me. After a few minutes he starts to jerk his hips, causing me to bite my lip to stop myself from crying out. "God fucking Christ, Richard. You're so tight. So good." His hand is still moving at a painfully slow pace.  
  
  
He moves faster though all I feel is pain and pleasure from Jim's hand. I opened my eyes again. Jim is rocking back and forth above me, driving his cock in and out. His eyes are closed like an angle and the sweat from his skin makes the t-shirt stick to his chest. The sight is almost beautiful, and suddenly I like the fact that he is doing this to me. I want him to be proud of me.  
  
  
I've wanked off many times before in secret but Jim can cum a lot faster. It is a very strange feeling; his cock is buried deep in my arse when he does. I'm not sure I like the sensation but it’s soon replaced by a warm feeling in the pit of my stomach while Jim keeps his hand clenched around my cock. His fingers rub the pre-cum over my sex whether intentionally or not and soon I am cumming over his hand and my chest and Jim's face is flushed but grinning down at me.  
  
  
I sigh and shudder as Jim pulls away, disconnecting us. He falls beside me on my bed with the same lazy grin he wears when he is extremely tired. I curl up in a ball with my arse burning and waiting for Jim to move closer to me which he does a few minutes later. I'm not sure I want him to touch me now. "I love you Richie," he says in a content tone.  
  
  
"I love you too," I mutter, though I know I don't mean it the way Jim does. We walk together to the bathroom and sit in the tub so my back is pressed against his chest as we wait for the warm water to fill up the bath and wash our bodies.  I want to cry, I don't feel well but it does feel pretty good when Jim is holding me close to him. I breathe deep breaths and close my eyes as Jim splashes water over my chest whispering things to me. How wonderful I am. How sexy I look when I cum. I fall asleep in the water, listening to my brother's soothing voice and hoping he won't leave me.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
To eventually be continued...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm no doubt getting better at writing smut. I'm also getting better at re-reading my work to check for typos. I plan to add Sebastian later in the series so just hang in there all you hopeless shippers.


End file.
